


Of War and Starlight

by SuperHeroTiger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Celestial AU, Celestial Irondad AU, Gen, IronDad and SpiderSon, Irondad, Kid Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26888827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperHeroTiger/pseuds/SuperHeroTiger
Summary: No matter where in the universe you stood, no matter what species you reigned from, no matter how hard you fought the laws of nature, there were some things in the world that were inevitable. Life. Death. Love. Hatred. Destruction. Creation… But above all the others, only one force made every soul in the universe cower.War.It was never satisfied. Never pleased. There were no winners in war…Except, of course, for the King of War, who the other Celestials simply named Stark.But when the King of War senses a strange lifeform at the edge of his kingdom one day, he approaches the bright presence fully expecting to be the one to snuff it out of the galaxy. What he doesn’t expect to find is a baby drifting in the midst of space, wrapped up in a blanket of comet’s tail and shimmering like a star against the void they lay abandoned in.And above all things, the King renowned for violence and destruction certainly never expected to find that this small, innocent baby was in fact no ordinary child, but a Celestial just like him...~~~(Celestial Irondad AU)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 39
Kudos: 160





	1. Out of Darkness Comes the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I created this AU as a series of one-shots over on my Tumblr (same username if you want to check out my blog!), but at the request of a very sweet Anon, I've decided to move it to here as well. This series is mostly self-indulgent Irondad fluff, and it's probably best understood by just jumping straight in to the first chapter hah. Hope you enjoy!  
> -Superherotiger

No matter where in the universe you stood, no matter what species you reigned from, no matter how hard you fought the laws of nature, there were some things in the world that were inevitable.

Life. Death. Love. Hatred. Destruction. Creation…

But above all the others, only one force made every soul in the universe cower.

_War._

Like a wild fire that raged throughout a forest, war could burn down even the strongest of empires until it was nothing more than fuel for a hunger that could never be quenched. It was never satisfied. Never pleased. Those caught up in its flames were doomed to crumble to ashes and those who escaped its grasp were forever branded with its torment. There were no winners in war…

Except, of course, for the King of War, who the other Celestials simply named _Stark_.

Stark represented the spirit of war, of its fire, it’s _destruction_. Adorned in a crown of metal thorns and a suit of armour that shielded everything but the flaming star in his chest, Stark was a force to be reckoned with if anyone had the misfortune of crossing paths with him. The only other Celestial that had been brave enough to rival him was Captain, the King of Freedom, with his indestructible circular shield and pure, unadulterated strength. Their battles were always so gloriously entertaining to the King that fed off of fighting, but their duels rarely resulted in injury to either of them. Stark grew bored easily, and faced with an eternal existence, he wasn’t about to throw away his only form of amusement for a chance to defeat the rival King.

But on this day, with war raging all across the galaxy and the star in his chest flaring up with that familiar hunger, Stark was surprised when he felt an odd presence flickering at the edge of his kingdom. It was too small to be Captain arriving for another battle, but it emitted too much light to be one of his soldiers either.

Shifting his form across the empty expanse of space, Stark approached the anomaly with his sword of pure blue energy drawn at his side, ready to destroy whatever had strayed too close to his kingdom. It was most likely a spy from a rival Celestial, and in that case, he would send them a message that would be unlikely to forget. If they wanted the King of War so badly, then it was war they would get.

The stardust that comprised his body rippled in surprise as he spotted the small figure suspended in the empty ocean of stars before him, their form glowing a soft white light into the inky, dark galaxy. It was floating just outside the border of his kingdom, too far away to distinguish its features but close enough to realise that whatever it was was moving. _Alive,_ even.

The air hummed with energy, and Stark thought he heard a muffled noise travel across the distance between them as he stared at this odd presence. It could have been a trap… a ploy to draw the King away from the safety of his domain. But for some strange reason Stark felt no danger from this little life form, lowering his sword and drifting towards the glowing presence ahead of him in curiosity.

As he approached, the light began to shimmer and spark like the star inside his own chest, and the King sheathed his sword entirely when he realised what that could mean.

After what felt like a century and a heartbeat all at once, Stark was hovering in front the unexpected intruder with wide eyes, only for a pair of soft, pale eyes to stare right back up at him a moment later. The figure -the _child-_ was tiny and bundled up in a blanket of comet’s tail, emitting the same gentle light that had caught the King’s attention from all the way inside his iron defences earlier. A warm light poured out from their stardust skin and their eyes grew so bright that they chased away the shadows like a burning sun.

A star.

A _Celestial._

Slowly, carefully, Stark floated closer towards the star-born child until his metal gauntlets brushed against the blanket, hesitating for a moment to see if the infant would recoil from his cold presence only for the baby to coo at him happily. The King practically froze at the strange noise, feeling a warm sensation spread throughout his spirit and make his star-heart transform from a burning spark to a steady glow. It was so unlike its usual state, and yet somehow brighter than it had ever been before.

Turning his attention back to the baby he was currently holding at arms length, he guided the bundle closer and hunched his figure slightly as if to protect this shred of sunshine from the emptiness around them. He could see the child’s features better now that they were closer, taking note of the chestnut curls falling down their head and the dimples in their rounded cheeks as they smiled.

Somehow, the sight of it alone coaxed a genuine smile out of the King. “Hey there, little one,” he spoke, his voice a rumble throughout the air. “You’re a long way from home… how did you get here, little prince?”

The baby cooed back at the noise, little hands wriggling out of the comet’s tail and reaching up at the King’s trimmed beard in excitement.

Lifting one of his gauntlets and distracting the baby with his iron-clad hand, Stark felt his chest ache as he stared down at this little being. So happy. So innocent…

Celestials were not born often anymore, and rarely from natural causes as many of them had been at the beginning of the universe. The comet’s tail blanket suggested that another Celestial had left him here, but the only question running through Stark’s mind was _why?_ Why leave a child to the wilderness of space? Why leave a child at the edge of Stark’s kingdom, the King of War and subsequent destruction?

And why, more importantly, leave _this_ child? This sweet, defenceless little baby…

The child suddenly gripped onto Stark’s index finger and he felt his expression soften at the bright smile the baby flashed at him. “It’s alright, young prince,” Stark said, his voice gentle but his resolve as hard as steel. “I will protect you from now on, and no harm will come to you under my watch.”

The baby giggled, completely unaware of what he’d just said, but pleased nonetheless.

Stark felt a smile lighten up his own features at the joyous sound, cradling the child in his arms as he stared down at them adoringly. Whichever Celestial had abandoned this little star did not deserve their light. Maybe, they had even hoped Stark would execute them considering his reputation for deathly defences. Whatever the reason, the King of War had found a star in the sky so beautiful that even he would protect it. Under Stark’s protection he would grow further than his Celestial parents had ever imagined, and one day, this prince might become a king of his own.

“I think I will call you… Peter,” Stark hummed as he drifted back into the safety of his kingdom, the baby -Peter- still cradled in his arms. Peter babbled his nonsensical approval, burrowing into his new guardian’s hold with a content sigh, as if he knew he was right where he was always meant to be.

“Peter,” Stark smiled down at the glowing star in his arms. “The Prince of Light.”


	2. My Love is No Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stark just wants to spend some time with his newly adopted son Peter when his secret threatens to be revealed by a fellow, curious Celestial.

“What does his majesty wish to do today, hm?”

The royal in question turned at the familiar voice, his big pale eyes beaming with sunshine as they landed on the speaker. A squeak of excitement broke through the space as the Prince of Light reached his little hands towards the figure standing before him, and his father, the King of War, was quick to kneel beside the baby with a grin of his own.

“Would the Prince like to explore the kingdom grounds today?” Stark hummed, his voice like velvet compared to the sharp wit that the Celestial was usually known for. His son clung to every word he spoke like it were gold though, so Stark continued to speak gentle -if not playful- words to the boy, leaning down on his knees until he was level with the baby attempting to crawl towards him. “Perhaps his majesty would like to jump around an asteroid field?”

The prince just babbled something unintelligible and gripped onto his father’s outstretched hands, the twinkle in his eyes so warm, so _pure._

“Or perhaps…” Stark smiled deviously as he suddenly swept the child into his arms and threw him up in the air. “Perhaps Prince Peter wishes to outshine the stars tonight!”

The sound that Peter released as he arced through the sky would have made the heavens themselves cry with joy.

Stark caught an elatedly squealing Peter in his arms a moment later, the star in his chest now radiating a soft blue glow as he waited for the boy to giggle himself out. When the laughter had tapered off and Peter began to nestle into his father’s chest with a pleased grin still etched onto his features, the king lowered his head until their foreheads touched and declared proudly “Now that would not be a difficult feat, considering my Peter already outshines the galaxy, hm?”

Peter cooed in agreement, his little fingers coming up and tugging on Stark’s beard in an attempt to comfort himself. To hold onto the King that had saved him and loved him as his own. The baby had been doing that since the day Stark had found him abandoned at the edge of his kingdom, alongside the dying stars and shadows of the galaxy. No child deserved such a fate. And Peter, his Prince of Light, certainly never deserved such cruelty. But whoever had left him to perish in that wasteland had misinterpreted Stark’s power for Death, not War. And though those two forces often went hand in hand, War also had moments of compassion, of unity, of _love_.

And if there was one thing that Stark was certain of, it was that he _loved_ his son with every fibre of his immortal being. So what if he was not born of his own starlight? So what if Peter would never inherit his kingdom? Peter was a prince of incredible potential, and so long as Stark’s star continued to burn, he would see to it that he became a King of his own realm someday as well.

Stark laughed a little as he peered down at the toothy smile on his son’s face. “I can hear it now. The King of Light,” he crooned, swaying gently from side to side. “Now _that_ is a title worthy of my Peter.”

The baby giggled at the name and kicked his legs, sending sparks of light swirling into the nursery.

“One day, little Prince,” Stark promised. “Just you wait…”

Both Celestials jumped when Stark’s most trusted knight, Happy, suddenly burst into the room, the King’s stardust skin shifting with unease when he noticed the man’s expression as he approached. Startled. _Panicked._

Stark felt his grip tighten over Peter on instinct.

“I am sorry to disturb you your highness, but a Celestial requests entrance into the kingdom,” Happy said, his voice even despite the worry burning through his eyes.

“Inform them that not only am I preoccupied today, but that it is impolite to arrive without an official invite from the King,” Stark replied shortly before bouncing Peter -who had become restless at the drastic shift in atmosphere- up in the air like he knew the boy loved so much. “It is appalling, isn’t it little Prince? Perhaps these Celestials will have to learn their manners again-“

“It’s Widow, sir.”

Stark’s smile dropped and his hold on Peter grew stronger.

“Send her away.”

“I tried sir, but she saw through me like glass,” Happy replied, bowing his head in shame. “She only asked one question… that’s all it took…”

At the knight’s downtrodden expression Stark gave his head a quick shake to clear it, resting Peter against his hip and using his free hand to grip Happy’s shoulder reassuringly. “I apologise, dear friend,” Stark said with a grimace. “I should not have asked so much of you. Not even a Celestial would have been able to fool Widow.”

Happy nodded slowly but refused to meet his eye. “She wishes to speak to you, but I feel it may be a trap.”

“Anything involving the Queen of Secrets is most definitely a trap,” Stark replied simply. And turning his attention to Peter, the King felt his heart clench at the boy’s oblivious mumblings as he clutched at the cape flowing down his father’s back with all the curiosity in the galaxy.

He had not informed the other Celestials yet of the child he had taken in as his own, the newest member to their family of vivid stars. He hadn’t seen the need to in all honesty. It wasn’t any of their business what the King of War decided to do within his own domain, except maybe for Captain who always felt the need to involve himself in Stark’s efforts to further his kingdom. But even the confrontations with the freedom fighter himself had become short lived since Peter’s arrival, Stark always finding a way to excuse himself from battle with either a faked surrender or an utter refusal to fight, which he knew was raising suspicions with the Celestial who had once seemed to know his every move. But Stark’s desire for battle had been washed away by the warmth that Peter’s presence flooded into every room, and the King couldn’t help the fire within his own spirit that demanded he protect the boy from anything that dared to harm his light, including his fellow Celestials.

So pulling himself back into his old façade, Stark handed his son over to Happy and said sternly “I will deal with Widow, so long as you guard the Prince until I return.”

The knight hesitated for a moment before cautiously cradling the Celestial in his arms, Peter peering up at him with a fond smile on his face. To hold a Celestial child was an honour that not many received, and Stark knew that Happy understood the gravity of what he had tasked him to do. “Of course, sir,” the knight murmured even as his gaze remained fixed on Peter’s entrancing eyes. “With my life…”

Stark nodded in approval, knowing his son was in safe hands.

Now all he had to do was face Widow -the Queen of _Secrets_ \- and somehow not get caught in her web of discovery in the process of chasing her off of his domain.

Even now he could feel the disaster brewing in the air…

All the attendants in the kingdom were quick to scatter when they noticed the King storming down halls with his eyes alight with fury, trails of flame spilling over his polished armour from the star sparking angrily from inside his chest. If he wanted the nosy Celestial gone without any prying questions, then he figured hostility would be the best approach. For some Celestials, the sight of him alone would be enough to scare them off to the other side of the galaxy.

But as he reached the edge of his kingdom and stood face to face with a less than impressed Widow staring back at him, he knew he would have no such luck today.

“Stark,” the Celestial greeted warmly, as if she were just catching up with an old friend and _not_ about to throw the most precious secret he’d ever kept out into the open.

“Widow,” the King replied shortly. “I don’t recall sending you an invitation.”

Widow’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles as she said, “Can’t a Celestial visit her fellow stars just for the sake of it?”

“From you? Definitely not,” Stark scoffed. “Whatever it is you are searching for, you won’t find it here.”

“Really? Your guard seemed to think otherwise.”

Stark’s chest flared in irritation, gritting out “You know, it could be seen as treason to interrogate my subjects Widow.”

“I only asked one simple question,” Widow replied, feigning innocence.

“And what ‘ _simple’_ question would that be?”

As soon as her sharp eyes of emerald locked onto his with a knowing smile, he knew he’d landed right into her web.

“Well, I was just wondering why the King of War and renowned Celestial fighter would reject not one, not two, but _three_ offers of battle from the King of Freedom, that’s all.”

Stark squared his shoulders defensively, the fire from his narrowed eyes blazing like a sun.

At the sight of his rage, Widow’s lips tilted into a smirk. “I think you really hurt Cap’s feelings Stark.”

“Don’t fret, I’m about to hurt yours as well,” he practically snapped. “Leave my kingdom Widow. I don’t want to see you here without my permission ever again.”

The Celestial arched a brow, seemingly more intrigued than she was before. “My, it _is_ quite a secret then, isn’t it?” she said with that infuriating smile still on her face.

“You have one last chance to leave before I throw you back into whatever black hole you crawled out of-“

“Ahh, so it’s not some _thing_ you’re hiding, but some _one,”_ Widow interrupted calmly.

Stark forcibly clamped his jaw shut, hating the Queen’s perceptive ability to reveal a layer of truth with each lie that was told. It seemed that deflecting her questions had little effect on her powers either.

Switching tactics, Stark laid his hand over the hilt of his sword and repeated coldly “Leave _now_ , Widow.”

“Who is it you’re protecting?” she asked instead, completely disregarding his silent threat.

“No one you need to know about.”

“ _All secrets_ are mine to know about,” Widow refuted harshly. “Do you wish the make this harder than it has to be, Stark?”

“You’re the one making this difficult,” Stark said, teeth gritted. He cared about Widow, truly, he did. But invading his domain and his personal affairs would not be tolerated.

“Who are they?”

“Get out of here before I _make_ you.”

“So they’re important to you?”

_Of course he is._

“…No.”

Like lightning had hit her, Widow’s eyes widened and shimmered in surprise.

“It’s a child.”

Stark’s furious façade crumbled into shock.

No. _No_. Widow could not be the first Celestial to find out about Peter.

If anyone would get that privilege, it would be his best friend Rhodey, the King of Protection. He’d been away for a few centuries now trying to offer shelter to damaged galaxies, but Stark had sent out a messenger in the hopes for the Celestial to meet his new son. Rhodey would love Peter, he could feel it in his bones. There would be an instant connection much like the way that Stark had been drawn to the child’s side, and the King had no doubt that Peter would have a similar effect on all his fellow Celestials.

But not like this… he wasn’t ready for this…

“Is it yours?” Widow asked, her voice reduced to a murmur.

“In every way that matters,” Stark said firmly.

The Queen nodded, becoming subdued for the first time since she’d arrived at his kingdom demanding answers. “Mortal?” she asked softly. Kindly. The complete opposite of how she’d approached the conversation at the beginning.

Stark’s shoulders sagged in defeat, knowing no matter what he said she would learn the truth in the end. “No, a Celestial child.”

Wisps of Widow’s fiery red hair coiled as she turned her head to the side, her face set in contemplation. “Were they injured?”

“No. I found him at the edge of my kingdom, abandoned at the border.”

Now her eyes were rounded in sorrow when she raised them to meet his own, saying “Are you certain he was left there?”

“Yes,” Stark growled, the buried anger over whichever Celestial had rejected the innocent boy flaring up in his soul. “He was wrapped in a sheet of comet’s tail. Only another Celestial would have such a luxury.”

“I see…” Widow gazed off into the cosmos with an eerie stare. “A secret that important would not be easily kept, least of all from me.”

“You have suspicions?” Stark asked, knowing that tone in his friend’s voice.

“Perhaps… but I will need to investigate further to be sure.”

The King hesitated at her words, contemplating, _wondering,_ before quickly shaking his head and saying “Don’t tell me. Regardless of his origins, Peter is mine alone.”

As understanding as always, Widow just nodded her head. After a few moments though her lips lifted back into a genuine smile, and at the King’s puzzled expression, she said “That’s a nice name.”

“Oh… yes,” Stark muttered, not meaning to have let his son’s name slip. “It felt right at the time.”

“Then that is all that matters.”

Stark couldn’t help but smile back this time, saying lightly “Well I’m glad I did something right for once.”

“Something tells me when that it comes to this child, you will make many right decisions,” Widow said reassuringly, only to add on with a smirk a moment after “Plenty of wrong ones too, but that is to be expected by the likes of you.”

Stark rolled his eyes at the jovial banter, the flames that were once crawling over his armour now reduced to a bright simmer in his chest. And as much as he was displeased about the day’s turn of events, he was glad that he hadn’t completely jeopardised his friendship with the Queen. She was persistent, yes, but it was also in her nature, just as much as it was in his to spread the hunger for battle across the galaxy.

“I’m sorry Stark,” Widow said suddenly, catching the King by surprise. “It was wrong of me to pry about your business.”

Stark waved her apology off quickly though and said “You’re nothing if not predictable Widow. I’ll let it pass this time, but just know, if you ever try this again I _will_ send my hellhounds to run you out of the kingdom.”

“ _Your_ hellhounds?” she scoffed. “Please, they are barely Terran puppies.”

“Give them a couple more centuries and they’ll be big enough to send you running for the Shadow Regions,” Stark replied, though his words were quickly followed by a bout of laughter from both Celestials. When it came to intimidation, his hounds Dummy, U and Butterfingers were the polar opposite.

When the laughter had faded and left a warmth hanging in the air between them, Stark realised how nice it felt for one of his fellow Celestials to finally know about Peter. His _son._ It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and released the fear that had coiled around his star, assuring him that Peter would come to no harm. And regardless of the methods she’d used to find out, Stark had to admit he was relieved it was Widow who had come to investigate and not Captain or one of his other numerous rivals, because at least she knew how to keep a secret.

That, and she was also his _friend_ , no matter his denial.

After adjusting the nonexistent creases in her black, silken dress, Widow levelled Stark’s gaze with a smile and said, “I should be on my way.”

Stark blinked in surprise, asking “Leaving so soon?”

“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome…” she replied, regret flashing across her expression before morphing back into a smile. “And besides, I don’t wish to keep you away from your son any longer. So next time we meet, I’ll make sure to have a formal invite.”

Widow turned, ready to leave, but something inside of the King’s chest urged him to stop her. Compelled him to step forward and take hold of her wrist, much to both of their surprise. But whatever confusion was currently passing over her eyes paled in comparison to the shock that would overtake it when Stark asked suddenly “Would you like to meet him?”

For the first time in Stark’s eternal life, he saw the Queen at a loss for words.

“ _What_ …?”

“Peter,” Stark repeated. “Would you like to meet Peter?”

“I don’t know Stark…”

“Don’t tell me the Queen of Secrets is afraid of a _baby_.”

Widow levelled him with a mocking scowl before biting her lip anxiously, asking “Are… are you certain…? I don’t wish to intrude… well, _anymore_.”

The King nodded; his resolve set despite his initial hesitance. He trusted Widow. With his life and with his secrets.

“He will be excited to meet you,” Stark said as he tugged her back towards his kingdom, frowning when she pulled away at his insistence. He could see the guilt written across her face when he turned to face her again, so taking a breath to steady himself, he added sincerely “And… _I_ would like for you to meet him, Widow.”

Her eyes met his own searchingly -always searching-, and he watched the way her green gaze shimmered and rippled every time the light shifted just a fraction. Like polished crystals, or the purest waterfall. If she was looking for persecution in his expression she would find none, even if he intended to hold it over her head for many centuries to come. After all, it never hurt to have a _little_ bit of leverage over his fellow Celestials.

And finally, after another scrutinising glare, Widow finally relented and nodded her head with the faintest smile.

“I would be honoured Stark.”

So that’s how the King found himself standing at the doorway to Peter’s nursery, watching with a fond smirk as his son smacked his hands gleefully on top of Happy’s sturdy helmet and squealing with every metallic clang that filled the room. Neither the baby nor the knight had noticed the Celestials standing just outside the room, but the sight was too innocent for either of them to interrupt either. So Stark watched the prince -his _son_ \- with unashamed pride and awe and _love._ Widow waited patiently in the hallway for the King to signal her forward, and after soaking in the delightful scene for a few more moments, Stark ushered her forward with a wave of his armoured hand.

“Happy,” Stark said, startling the knight who still had his back turned out of the blissful moment. Carefully -and oh so gently-, Happy lifted Peter back into his arms and rose to his feet, ready to hand the baby back to his father before catching sight of the Queen standing beside him and freezing almost comically. His wide eyes flickered back and forth between the two Celestials, gaze hesitantly drifting down to the babbling baby in his arms before the panic only became evident in his set jaw and drawn lips. Other than that he was the perfect picture of control, a quality that had earned him the role of head knight and, more importantly, the King’s trust.

So deciding to put the poor guard out of his misery, Stark offered a soft smile and said “I hope the young Prince has not caused any trouble, hm?”

Happy shook his head in quick denial, replying “No sir, he’s been well behaved.”

“Just as I knew he would be,” Stark grinned as he scooped the baby out of the knight’s arms, laughing when Peter began to coo at him with those warm, sunlight eyes of his again. He could stare into those pools of light and comfort all day long, and judging by the soft smile on Happy’s face, he wasn’t the only one.

But like the observant knight he was, Happy was quick to excuse himself from the room and disappear with one final, affectionate glance over his shoulder at the Prince. And when Peter opened and closed his hand at the knight in his imitation of a wave, Stark could have sworn he saw Happy’s eyes grow shiny before he made a swift escape.

“There’s someone here to meet you little Prince,” Stark hummed as he naturally started rocking the boy in his arms again. “She was _so_ excited to meet you in fact, that she couldn’t even wait until I told her you _existed_ at all. Quite extraordinary huh?”

Widow let out of light scoff from across from him, but Stark never broke his gaze from Peter’s joyous and trusting smile, growing more and more grateful with each passing day that he’d investigated that little spark of light at the edge of his shadowed kingdom.

“This visitor is quite special Peter. She is a Celestial, just like me and you,” he explained as if the baby could actually understand him.

Finally, with great reluctance, he raised his gaze to meet Widow’s fond stare and repositioned Peter so he was facing their visitor straight on. As soon as the prince caught sight of the Celestial with her fiery flames of hair and sleek black dress and shimmering crystal eyes, the light emanating from his stardust skin flickered excitedly, his little feet kicking embers towards what he believed was a new potential playmate. He babbled something in greeting to the Queen, and Stark watched her whole demeanour soften in the same way that Happy’s had only moments ago.

“This is Widow, the Queen of Secrets,” Tony said. “Widow, meet my son Peter.”

Bending slightly so that she was eye level with the baby, Widow smiled and greeted in a voice as sweet as honey “Hello dear. It’s an honour to finally meet you.”

Peter reached out his chubby little hands and giggled when the flames of her hair coiled around his fingers, his eyes squinting delightedly at his fellow Celestial.

“Well, aren’t you a little angel,” Widow hummed before lifting her finger up to his own, softening even further when he gripped onto her thumb with a pleased babble.

“A little charmer too, it would seem,” Stark said playfully.

“Hm. Must have inherited that from your father,” Widow said in mocking disapproval, before carding her fingers to Peter’s silky hair and asking, “So what might this little Prince be the ruler of?”

“The Prince of Light,” Stark answered.

“Is that so? Well, I would say that is a _very_ fitting title indeed,” the Queen said, nodding her approval and causing Peter to giggle at the way her hair bounced around her shoulders.

“He’ll be the best out of all of us,” Stark stated proudly, confidence like never before flooding through his veins, before he turned Peter back around and pressed their noses together with a laugh. “Isn’t that right, young Prince? You’ll be the best of the best.”

Even though Peter couldn’t understand his father’s words he was quick to giggle along and rest his hands on Stark’s cheeks, his touch so endearing and gentle that it almost made his heart burst with emotions. What he wouldn’t give to hold onto this moment for the rest of time. To preserve it through eternity and never leave its comfort.

But if Peter were to become a King himself, that meant Stark would have to let him grow up, and someday, even let him go.

But for now, in this moment, he could just hold his son and adore every moment of it.

Stark had almost forgotten that Widow was still there -staring at them both in and awe and relief and so much _pride_ for her fellow Celestial-, until she said warmly “You really do love him, don’t you?”

The King only blinked at Widow for a moment before turning back to his son with a proud smile.

“Well that’s no secret, is it little Prince?”

The pleased hum that Peter let out was the only answer he needed.


	3. Silence is a Sword, but I will be your Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Peter is terrified of silence, and his father finally understands why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part was inspired by a comment from the lovely An_Odd_Idea. Enjoy!

The Realms of War were always active, always moving, always _busy_.

Not a rotation went by where troops weren’t being sent out to the front lines or returning after decades of battle, forging and re-establishing the kingdom borders in their eternal fight for conquest. Much like their King, the soldiers were loud and boisterous, roaring into battle and returning in a flurry of celebration. The servants inside the kingdom itself were far more reserved, but the battalions constantly drifting in and out of the grounds to be replenished and swiftly sent back to the battlefields made sure to fill the silence that the servants left in their wake.

When Stark first brought Peter into his realm he worried that the baby would hate the constant noise. He waited for the restless nights and disgruntled objections, but they never came. Because much to the King’s surprise, Peter seemed to _love_ noise.

The baby would sit beside his father’s throne and clap excitedly when a new battalion returned -which had become a much approved tradition by the soldiers since-, or babble at servants who bustled around the hallways until they couldn’t help but smile back at the young Prince. He would slam his hands against the castle walls in an improvised melody that brought him endless joy and took any opportunity to test the acoustics of someone’s armour. Happy’s helmet was amongst one of his favourite items to drum on, though the knight never complained.

Out of the symphony of sound that always filled the kingdom though, the one that Peter was always drawn to regardless of how distant or quiet it was had to be his father’s voice.

Stark was renowned amongst his fellow Celestials for being a charismatic speaker. After all, it wasn’t always brash words or furious yells that started a war, but the whispers behind closed doors, the smooth trail of rumours that trickled out of one’s mouth. Stark had perfected his voice and turned it into a weapon; his words like seeds just waiting to bloom inside of mortal hearts. And then when the time was right, when the pressure built so high that there was no option but to erupt, Stark would raise his voice to a battle cry and spur them into action. They would fall into the spell of war, of his _control_ , and his domain would continue to grow.

But since Peter had appeared in his life, Stark had been spending more and more time inside the castle walls with his son instead of on the front line with the soldiers. None of his subjects could blame him when they were met with Peter’s adorable smile, but the King knew it made their efforts much harder without his powerful support. For the meantime though Happy had ordered them to focus on securing the boundaries instead of pushing them further, which was an unexpected but welcomed reprieve for the soldiers on the battlefield.

Or so they thought, because it seemed Stark’s rivals had finally noticed his absence and taken it as an opportunity to expand their own domains, sending fleets of soldiers to almost every edge of Stark’s border in an overwhelming wave. Desperate to keep control of his land but still unwilling to leave his son’s side, Stark had no option but to send every available battalion out to counter the attacks, leaving the kingdom an empty shell of its once constant activity.

It didn’t even occur to the King how his son might be affected by the sudden silence until it was too late.

Startled from a troublesome sleep at the sound of distressed wailing from across the hall, Stark shifted his starlight form into Peter’s nursery without even having to think about it, his chest blazing with defensive flames as he raised his blade for an attack. He expected an intruder or assailant to be standing beside the crib, maybe even a misguided servant who had entered the wrong room by accident, but was surprised when he was met with nothing. No shadowy figure. No danger. Not even a chair or toy out of place.

And still Peter cried, his screams so shaky and pained that it made the King’s own breath hitch in alarm.

Certain that there was no unseen danger lurking in the nursery, Stark rushed towards the crib where his son was thrashing around in his comet’s tail blanket and immediately reached out for him, saying gently “Shh, Peter, shh… I’m here, I’m here now…”

The baby squirmed as Stark lifted him against his broad chest, desperately trying to soothe the cries still tearing out of his little throat but to no avail. Armoured hands ran over Peter’s back and head in search of any injuries that could have caused such distress, but the panic inside of the older Celestial only heightened when he found no visible wounds on his son.

If it wasn’t physical, then it must have been mental. And for some reason that scared the King even more.

Peter had never cried like this before. Since the day he’d arrived in the kingdom Peter had always been a lively, bubbly child that brought joy to anyone that crossed his path. There wasn’t a second of the day where he wasn’t smiling or laughing in that precious little way of his, softening his father’s heart until it beamed just as brightly as Peter’s eyes.

So to see him like this -so distraught and miserable and _afraid-_ made Stark’s chest constrict in a way he had never felt before…

“Hush sunshine, it’s alright,” the King tried to say over the piercing wails, forcing his own voice not to tremble. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry… I’m right here little Prince, and you’re _safe._ You’re always safe with me…”

Still heaving with cries, Peter turned his head into his father’s shoulder as that horrible scream shifted into a gut-wrenching sob instead. Stark couldn’t quite decide which sound was worse; the one that shattered his heart to pieces or the one that crushed what remained into a fine dust. In the end he decided they were both as torturous as the other.

“Oh Peter, my little Peter…” Stark breathed into the baby’s fine curls of hair. “Please don’t cry little one. You have nothing to fear, nothing at all…”

The agonising wails became muffled as Peter pressed further into his father’s hold, face tucked under Stark’s chin with a hand raised up and locked fiercely onto the King’s beard in search of comfort. Stark didn’t object to the harsh tugging though, just simply swayed from left to right with his own hand cradling the back of Peter’s head, murmuring reassurances into the air like the gentle current of a river. Promises of safety and comfort and _love_. Love that he showed in his protective hold and gentle words, a constant string of “I’ve got you now,” and “You’re safe little Prince,” and “No harm will come to you,” falling off his lips.

Gradually, after what seemed like a century, Peter’s cries began to taper off, and the King breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the tension begin to unravel from his son’s body. “There you are sunshine,” he whispered, rubbing a hand soothingly over Peter’s shoulders. Within minutes the small sniffles trailed off into silence, and Stark allowed his own murmurs to fade along with it, thinking his son had fallen back into a peaceful slumber.

But suddenly Peter jerked in his father’s hold and clawed his face in alarm, his once even breaths ratcheting back up to a frantic speed.

“No, no, it’s alright- stay calm,” Stark hummed while tightening his embrace over the boy. “No more tears. Your cries are like thunder to my ears, little prince, and I don’t know if I can survive any more.”

A tired whine was the only reply, Peter sagging back against his chest with his fingers still locked fiercely into his father’s beard, as if he were terrified the King would leave him.

“You need to rest,” Stark mumbled into his son’s hairline. “Even the sun has to set at the end of the day.”

For a few seconds Peter seemed at ease, but the moment Stark’s words had echoed into silence, he was squirming and whimpering again in discomfort.

This time the King just hummed a nonsensical melody instead of words, taking note when Peter leant back against his rumbling chest with a satisfied coo. Stark prided himself on being one of the smartest Celestials in the galaxy, so it didn’t take long to make a connection between Peter’s unusual behaviour and the uncanny silence that had enveloped the kingdom. Noise had been the boy’s companion since the moment Stark had carried him into his realms, away from the border he had been abandoned at…

The border at the edge of wild space…

Cold, empty, _quiet_ space…

“Oh Peter…” Stark breathed, pained, as he held his son even closer to his chest. It was no wonder the boy had enjoyed the chaotic nature of the kingdom, of the ever-constant chatter and rumble and reassurance that he was not _alone_. Not abandoned. Not drifting off in an abyss that he could never escape from.

“Oh sunshine, I understand now,” Stark said with a quivering voice. “I know- I know that emptiness you feel, but you are safe now. Safe and loved and _never_ to be deserted again.”

Craning his neck to meet Peter’s vibrant but weary eyes, the King became so overwhelmed with a sense of love that it flooded into his words like molten steel in a forge, promising softly “I am -and will always be- right here beside you. Whether a Prince or a King, you will always be my sunshine… my little Peter…”

Those big doe eyes blinked back at him slowly, the shimmer of a setting sun reflected in his gaze. He was still so young… had so much more to learn. But in this moment, not between a King and a Prince but a father and his son, Stark thought he saw a flash of understanding cross his son’s expression. A _peace_ , if you will.

Smiling through the ache in his spirit, Stark rested his hand against Peter’s cheek and brushed away a stray tear, humming when the boy’s eyes fluttered shut in content.

“I will _always_ protect you, little one. And if I must fill the silence with endless tales and nonsensical banter to remind you so, then I will do it for the rest of my days,” he said playfully, allowing his voice to echo into the nursery and fill the silence that had loomed over his son so threateningly. Within moments Peter nuzzled further into his collarbone, seeking the vibrations- the familiarity of his father’s voice, and it were as if the galaxy itself had shifted back into place.

Smiling, Stark pressed a gentle kiss against his son’s temple. “Anything for my Peter…”

That night, the Prince slept soundly once more, wrapped in his father’s embrace and velvety soft words. Words that promised security, and guarded him from the threat of loneliness.

Stark had perfected his voice into a weapon of war, but for his son, and only for his son, it became a shield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I add to this series sporadically and whenever I'm struck with the inspiration, but if you have any ideas you'd like to see in this AU, let me know and it might just get a chapter of its own :) Have an awesome day!  
> -Superherotiger


	4. The Only Name That Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stark's stormy thoughts of battle and bloodshed are interrupted by Prince Peter's discovery of a new word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> This idea was requested by Littleshrews on Tumblr, and is essentially just a whole lot of fluff because we all need some wholesome Irondad in our life now and again hah. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a great day!  
> -Superherotiger

Despite being unable to pronounce a single intelligible word, the Prince of Light loved to talk.

He could spend hours upon hours just babbling to no one in particular, occasionally pausing in thought, only to jump back into his rambling as passionately as before. Sometimes his voice was quiet, mere mumbles as he played with his toys, and other times he could be loud enough to alert the whole kingdom, squealing excitedly and making sure everyone was aware of whatever had caught his attention. And for as long as Peter could talk, his father could sit by and listen, completely enraptured by the nonsensical conversations with his young son. Because when Stark would hold Peter’s glowing stare and talk back in curious murmurs, the baby seemed to brighten and smile and giggle in that beautiful way of his until the celestial had no choice but to entertain the incomprehensible babble.

Peter’s laughter was like sunshine that broke through rain clouds, the bloom of spring flowers after the frost of winter. Nothing could quite compare to its melody, so powerful and bright. That sound -much like everything about his son- was something Stark was ever thankful to have in his immortal life.

But as the King of War, Stark still had to shoulder all the challenges and responsibilities of his large empire, many of which were less pleasant than his son’s bright smile.

On this particular occasion it was a brutal ambush of his soldiers at the border between War and Peace, the opposing Celestial force and constant thorn in Stark’s side. Barely any of the soldiers in the small patrol had survived, and those who had were branded with wounds that would stay with them for many lifetimes. It seemed yet another rival kingdom had caught onto his recent absence on the battlefield, and despite the fact that Stark was directing his attention into something good, something _amazing_ , it was his soldiers getting punished for it.

So he had to think of a solution, and short of going out to the borders and slaying his enemies back into submission, he could find no other way around the dilemma. Stark -positioned on his throne of iron and gold- tapped his fingers mindlessly against the metal below as his mind calculated every risk, every flaw, every advantage. In the corner of his eye he could see Peter playing with the small, crystal cubes that Widow had gifted him shortly after their first meeting, placing blocks on top of each other and tearing them down with a meticulous eye for detail. If Stark listened closely, he could even hear the quiet mumblings that his son let out, focused and deep in thought as he rearranged the cubes.

But whereas Stark would usually take the time to watch the Prince play in peaceful amusement, now he stared off to the opposite wall and got lost in a storm of his own thoughts. Of the many problems that weighed down on his shoulders and demanded his attention. Threatened to destroy everything he had worked for if he dared turn away for too long.

Peter’s voice rose in the back of his mind, the mumblings transforming into a chorus of syllables filled with curiosity.

Supposedly it was too much to ask for a moment of stillness in a galaxy of immortal beings, Stark thought bitterly. He knew he could -and most likely _should-_ tell his fellow Celestials soon of Peter’s existence, but as selfish as it was, he didn’t think they deserved to know of his son. Maybe there were a few exceptions, but Stark cared little for his star-born family, and he certainly didn’t want to make Peter a target to any of his numerous enemies…

The babbling resumed, louder and more urgent this time, but not enough to draw the king from his thoughts.

Stark wanted nothing more than to spend his limitless days with his son, but he also had a responsibility to his kingdom, to his soldiers, to defend them. To go back out to battle would take time though, time Stark wasn’t sure Peter or himself were ready to be separated for…

Another string of nonsensical words called, echoing through the chamber impatiently.

Falling deeper into his mind, Stark immediately began conjuring up ideas and designs for a solution. Something mechanical. Something that could protect his son when he couldn’t-

“Dada!”

Stark’s head snapped up in one swift motion, that single word causing all previous thoughts to come grinding to a halt. Slowly, almost cautiously, the King turned to stare down at the boy gazing up at him expectantly from the foot of his throne, eyes bright and unmoving.

After a moment of tense silence, Stark blinked himself out of his stupor and asked “What… what did you just say?”

And then, with a smile that beamed like the sun, Peter exclaimed loudly “Dada!”

The King’s heart sparked in shock, sending embers to the polished floors as he rose to his feet and watched his son with a daringly hopeful smile. It could have been a mistake. A coincidental combination of syllables.

But kneeling by his son’s side, Stark felt his entire being tremble in joy when Peter reached out his little hands and called out “Da, Dada! Dada!”

Stark’s breath caught in his lungs as he stared at his son -his beautiful little Peter- and softened in such overwhelming love and adoration. “Oh Peter, yes- yes that’s _me,_ ” Stark cooed, scooping the baby into his fierce embrace.

“Da, Da!” Peter repeated proudly, planting his hands on his father’s cheeks as if to make sure the Celestial was watching his newfound trick.

Fire began to burn in Stark’s eyes as he leant into Peter’s soft touch, the star in his chest blooming with a bright blue flame as he murmured “That’s right- you’re so clever, aren’t you sunshine?”

Peter babbled for a moment with an urgency that his father couldn’t comprehend, only for his face to brighten up again into a smile as he chanted his new favourite word like his life depended on it. Each time he spoke that name, that seemingly simple title, Stark felt his soul ache with awe and wonder and love so strong it felt like it would burst out of chest. Only Peter could make him feel this way. Could make him physically weak with so many emotions that it was impossible to count them all. And it was in moments like these that Stark realised just how much Peter had changed his life, his purpose, his very reason for living.

“I love you little Prince,” Stark whispered as he pressed their foreheads together. “I’m a lucky king indeed to have a son like you…”

“Dada, da,” Peter replied enthusiastically.

Humming in agreement, Stark kissed the crown of Peter’s head and softened at the pleased giggled that followed.

“The luckiest king of all…”


End file.
